


Merlin Scissorhands

by missdorothysnarker



Category: Edward Scissorhands (1990), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Arthur is Kim and Jim, F/M, M/M, Merlin has scissorhands, Morgana is not related to Arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3101678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdorothysnarker/pseuds/missdorothysnarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a manor on top of a mountain lives an inventor's unfinished creation - Merlin, a beautiful boy with scissors for hands. Kindly Gwen finds him alone and and brings him home, to the displeasure of the Pendragon family, particularly Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gwen Strikes Out

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this fusion has been done before, but I saw the film again recently and it struck me how perfectly it paralleled with Merlin. I wrote this chapter in a few hours today so it's rough and might be too cinematic in style. Thanks for reading!

Once upon a time - in a neighborhood not so very different from the one you grew up in - there was an old inventor named Gaius, who lived in a dilapidated manor on a mountain peak overlooking the small town of Avalon. Unbeknownst to the townsfolk below, the old inventor had created a boy to serve as his son, a companion made of the finest of synthetic flesh. 

Before he had finished his creation, the inventor passed away, leaving the boy alone with unfinished arms ending in scissors for hands. The boy was distraught, uncomprehending of the finality of death, unable to hold the only father he had ever known in his arms. The last act committed by the old inventor was to give his creation a name – Merlin. 

+

Gwen Pendragon, née Smith, rang the bell of the town vamp Sophia. Gwen had been housekeeper for the Pendragon family for only a few months before Uther Pendragon asked to her marry him. Avalon's gossips painted her as a golddigger and Uther as a cradle-robber, but neither let the talk deter them from matrimony. 

But despite Uther's wishes and his more than healthy salary, Gwen continued to serve as the local Camelot Cosmetics representative. It was less for the money than the interaction with the town's housewives, who had yet to accept her as one of them. 

Sophia opened the door, slouching against it in a flimsy negligee. She smoked a cigarette, eying Gwen with thinly-veiled dislike. Gwen held out a rose-patterned samples box.

'Hi Sophia! I just wanted to let you know about Camelot Cosmetic’s new autumn collection –'

Sophia stubbed out her cigarette with a twist of her kitten-heeled slippers.

'Why Gwen, when have I ever bought that cheap Camelot crap from you? You know I only buy the best at Sephora, darling...' she drawled.

'I thought you might just want to see the autumn collection for yourself. I think the warm golds would be really flattering –' said Gwen hesitantly.

'Well, I am so sorry to disappoint, Gwenie, but I'll have you know I am otherwise... _occupied_ at the moment.'

Sophia shut the door in Gwen's face before she could get another word in. Gwen steeled herself before turning to stride down the street, her box of samples swaying at her side. 

She walked next door to try her luck with Catrina, who opened the door in the midst of doing the washing, holding a half-folded pair of boxers in her hands. Gwen mustered a cheerful look, showing off the container. 

'Good morning, Cat! How are you doing today?'

'It's that time of year again, I see.'

'I just stopped by to let you know about Camelot Cosmetic's autumn exclusive collection. We have a beautiful new selection of lipsticks in a range of velvety, muted colors perfect for your fall wardrobe!'

Catrina crossed her arms, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. 

'My fall wardrobe? Honey, all I wear these days are sweats – fall, winter, spring, summer.'

'All the more reason to spice up your look with one of our classic products. You can brighten your face without looking like you've got a facelift!'

'A facelift, huh? Maybe I'm looking too mature these days...'

'Oh no! That wasn't what I meant to imply at all – just that every woman feels better with a great mascara on her side!'

Catrina chuckled. 

'Don't get so worked up, Gwen. Nice chatting, but I've got to go – that laundry won't fold itself!'

+

Various make-up products were strewn across a purple comforter in the black bedroom of Avalon's token goth teen, Kara, black eyeliner smeared around her eyes to the point of resembling a raccoon. Gwen watched her, pleased, all set with an order form.

'I'm so happy you're a fan of Camelot Cosmetics! So which of the lip glosses where you thinking? Cute Kiwi or Hawaiian Hottie?

Kara shrugged, examining herself in the mirror. 

'They're both cool.'

'Terrific!'

'Yeah, but I'm not gonna buy them when you just gave me samples for free.'

Gwen, struck speechless, watched as Kara began to paint her nails Camelot Blue.

+

Downcast, Gwen walked past the home of Nimueh, the town's resident religious zealot. Through the curtained window, she watched Nimueh's silhouette as she lit incense sticks around an illuminated crucifix. There was no point in even trying. Nimueh called make-up the devil's paint. 

Gwen climbed into her navy station wagon, exasperated, sweaty and unkempt. She made no sales at all, and had given Kara half of her samples. It's not like she needed the money, but she hated to go home empty handed. She wasn't the type to give up.

Gwen pulled out a map of the neighborhood, every house crossed off with no success. She stared blankly through the window, eyes wandering to the mountain looming over Avalon. The dark manor at the peak caught her eye. The younger Pendragon son, Mordred, had told her that it was a haunted house, that Avalon kids dared each other to go up there on Halloween, but few dared to go beyond the gates. Maybe there was someone there, an old hermit lady who just needed some company, if not cosmetics. 

She checked her appearance in the car mirror, hurriedly fluffing her curls before beginning to drive. 

'Fuck it.'

What did she have to lose?

+


	2. Meeting Merlin

+

Clutching her samples, Gwen paused at the manor's run-down wrought-iron gate. The gate scratched open, hinges rusted and creaking as if they hadn't been open in years. Not much was visible through the fog, but in the distance she heard a voice singing, an intensely sad and solitary song. 

'Hello? Is anybody there?' Her voice echoed across the courtyard. 

Immediately the singing ceased, engulfing the room in silence. There was something eerie about the quiet stillness, but the courtyard garden was spectacular, flawlessly cared for. Each bush was sheared into fantastical shapes of flowers and animals. 

'Oh my god... This is unbelievable,' she whispered. 

'Hello? Is anybody there?' 

Nothing. She knocked on the front door, but there was no sign of life. She tried the doorknob, and the door opened, her heart racing like a rabbit.

In the marble entryway, her steps banged across the floor. Someone inhaled sharply above her. There was someone here, someone who was watching her. Gwen peeped into the vast, aristocratic living room where ripped linens swathed the heavy furnishings. She gulped, anxious – the place was something from a gothic nightmare.

She walked quietly, carefully, to the bottom of the broad stairway, where she heard the sound of someone breathing quickly, as if they had been sprinting, or were very scared. 

Gwen took a deep breath, faking cheeriness. 

'Hi up there! I'm Gwen from Camelot Cosmetics!'

Whoever it was ran off, their footsteps scurrying away, pitter-pattering on the floorboards above. Impulsively, Gwen chased up the stairs and along a passage, her samples box smacking against her side as she sprinted.

'Hello? Hello? Don't be afraid! I won't hurt you!'

At the end of the passage a door lay open, revealing no bed but a dirty heap of hay. Books and magazines plastered the floor – old L.L. Bean catalogues, an ancient National Geographic, an Emily Post etiquette book... Magazine pictures have been clipped out with the utmost care, the images pasted in a strange collage. 

'What on earth...?' she breathed. A noise from above startled her out of her reverie. Gwen raced up another flight of stairs to the attic, panting heavily. She hadn't had so much exercise in years. 

The object of her pursuit was crushed against the far wall, nothing more than a faint silhouette of a boy in the darkness. His breath seized, his movements jerky, unpredictable and erratic. Light reflected off the metal in his hands, as if he clutched a long, keen knife deep in the shadows. 

Gwen couldn't believe she's found this elusive creature, that someone lived in the manor after all the stories of ghosts and hauntings! Gradually, softly, so as not to frighten him further, she moved toward him.

'You don't have to hide from me, I won't hurt you! I'm sorry to scare you like this, but you don't have to run away! My oh my, this is a huge house, isn't it? Thank God for all those Zumba classes! You're not used to running, are you? You seem a little out of breath!'

She approached across the attic, peering at him. 

'You don't have to hide back there! There's no need to be afraid – I'm a Camelot Cosmetics sales representative, I'm as safe as apple pie!'

The boy in the shadows shifted, caught in a ray of mote-filled light shining through a filthy window. Gwen gasped, despite her best intentions to stay calm. He appeared to be clasping something to his chest – scissors a foot long. Gwen licked her lips nervously, beginning to back away. 

'I'm sorry to have disturbed you, it was silly of me to barge in here without an appointment! Please don't be angry with me, I didn't mean to disturb you, so I'll just be on my way now! You'll be by yourself again, you can pretend I was never here at all. Just stay put there – I'll be gone in a moment,' she prattled, on the edge of hysteria. 

The boy leaned forward, head tilted to one side with curiosity.

'You don't have to leave,' he said, voice weak as if he hadn't spoken in years.

Gwen stood stock still, frozen at the sight of his face. The boy had a strange, doll-like beauty, china-white skin marred with nicks, scars, cuts and slashes mirroring the sharpness of his cheekbones. His eyes were so large, so blue, they dominated his face like two enormous, enigmatic pools, his hair a crow's nest of untamed black curls that looked as if they had never been trimmed in his life. 

'My God,' whispered Gwen. 'What on earth happened to your face? Where are your parents?'

'My parents?' the boy repeated dumbly.

'Yes, you know – your mother and father?'

'My father is dead.' The boy uneasily scraped at himself, carving a new cut on his delicate nose. 

Gwen shuddered in sympathy. 

'I don't have a mother.'

'You poor dear!'

Gwen knelt beside her samples box, popping it open. 'I can't believe you live up here all alone with nobody to take care of you!'

She picked out a bottle with great care.

'Now what you need is a gentle toner to kill off any germs... On the other hand –' 

She clicked the box closed, brushing off her knees. 'I think what you need is to come with me. Put those things on the ground and –'

'What things?' the boy asked. 

Gwen was beginning to wonder if he was simple-minded, or perhaps just slow. After all, he had been isolated from others for what seemed to have been some time. 

'Those, uh... knives or whatever they are,' she said, nodding at his hands. 

'They aren't knives. My father didn't have the time to finish me.'

'Oh, I see.'

She did, once the boy walked completely into the light. What she had thought were knives were in fact large silvery scissors, held awkwardly in front of his body. His outfit, which appeared to be a ragged black leather jumpsuit, hung in ribbons from his slim body. Gwen swallowed – she couldn't imagine living life with no hands, no fingers, just shears at the end of her arms...

'We can work on it. And your skin. And those clothes have got to go.'

Gwen turned to look back over her shoulder as she reached the door.

'Sorry, what was your name again?'

'I – I didn't say. It's Merlin.'

'Merlin,' she repeated thoughtfully. 

'It suits you. You might be a little magic, Merlin.'

He smiled back at her, apparently missing the cultural reference to the famed wizard of lore.

'Time to go home.'

+

They climbed into Gwen's car, Edward trying to fold his hands into the small space, finally crossing the blades in his lap. He looked out the window in dazed wonder at the passing pastel houses of suburbia.

'It's beautiful,' he whispered.

Gwen laughed. 'Well, I don't know about that, but Avalon certainly has its charms! Just wait till you meet the Pendragons...'

+


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry this has taken me ages to post! And it's still short and nothing much has happened...
> 
> But as I have more time now, I intend to update this regularly, as the image of Merlin as Edward hasn't left me alone.

+

As they turned onto the Pendragon's street, Merlin saw various women's faces appear in the windows and doorways of different houses. He stared back at them as Gwen pulled into the drive. 

Merlin curled into himself as if he could hide from their curious stares.

'They're all looking at me,' he whispered to Gwen. She turned and patted him on the shoulder, gingerly avoiding the blades. 

'Don't worry, Merlin. They're just a bunch of bored housewives and you're the most exciting thing they've seen in this neighborhood for years!'

The Pendragon's house deviated only slightly from its neighbors, a ranch-style bungalow with a lawn which Gwen kept well-groomed and an uninspired garden.

She guided an enthralled Merlin inside and into the small, neat living room, the practical furniture covered with crocheted doilies. He was drawn to a few family photographs– school pictures of two boys, one golden-haired and square-jawed, around eighteen years old, the other around eleven, with dark hair and large blue eyes. 

Gwen came up behind him and pointed to a picture of a grey-haired man holding a rifle in the woods. 

'That's my husband, Uther, hunting. I hate it, but happily for me and the animals, he's a terrible shot and never gets anything.' She pointed to a picture of the dark little boy wading in the ocean. 

'And that's Mordred last summer at the beach. He wanted us to buy him a boogie board but Uther said he had to learn how to swim first.' The next photo is the blond boy in a tuxedo, a beautiful dark-haired girl smirking on his arm. 

'This is Arthur with his girlfriend, going to the prom. He's camping in the mountains with their friends this weekend.

She affectionately straightened the picture of her and Uther on their wedding day.

'Mordred was our ring bearer and Arthur was his father's best man. A lot of people in the neighborhood didn't really approve of our getting married. Maybe it was because I'm black, or too young, or because I worked for them before we were engaged, but I always felt like part of the family. I mean, I know I can never replace Ygraine, but –'

Merlin couldn't imagine anyone not liking Gwen. If the other people in Avalon were half as nice, he would never want to leave.  
Gwen caught herself, flushing. 'Sorry, I can just ramble on and on! Here, let's get you into some fresh clothes...'

She pulled Merlin away from the picture of Arthur he'd been admiring, taking a worn pair of sweatpants and a sweat-stained T-shirt from the hallway closet. 

'Here, these are Arthur's workout clothes. He's on the football team, but he runs too sometimes. They might be a little big, but they'll do in a pinch!'

She drew out fresh bedsheets and towels. 

'I'll make up Arthur's room since he's away. Unfortunately, we don't have a guestroom for you to stay in.'

Carefully steering clear of the sharp tines of Merlin's hands, she handed him the heap of clothes and bedlinen, guiding him up the stairs. Gwen's cell phone chirped as they came to Arthur's room. 

'One sec, I need to take this. Just make yourself comfortable!'

+

Merlin gazed at Arthur's bedroom in wonderment, although it smelled strongly of sweat and something strangely animal. Unlike the rest of the house, which was spotless, Arthur's room was a mess, band and movie posters peeling off the walls plastered here and there with images of scantily-clad women, crumpled clothes covering the floor, the bed unmade and the curtains drawn, turning it into a dark pit of a room. A bunch of sporting trophies sat on the desk, next to a laptop and a few battered comic books. 

A balled together pair of boxers were thrown on top of the duvet, swaying on the waves Merlin created by sitting on the bed. Bewildered, he stretched out a hand to stabilize the shaky mattress, only to rip a little slash in in. To his dismay, water started to seep out, but nearly instantly, the small hole sealed itself up.

Photographs were tacked and taped to the wall – Arthur playing football, snowboarding, the entire family by a pool, Arthur drinking from a beer bottle, grinning, aviator sunglasses sliding down the tip of his nose. He conveyed the feeling of physical fitness, of muscular skin bronzed and hair bleached white-gold from sun, a perfect shining beacon of youth. 

Merlin drew away from the pictures, blissfully inhaling the scent of a stick of something labeled 'Old Spice', a marine, masculine smell lingering in the air. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of himself in a mirror attached to the closet door. Merlin started, surprised, until he registered that what he was looking at was nothing other than his own reflection. 

He stared for a long time, examining himself from every angle.

Merlin looked nothing like Arthur. He was his antithesis, with a face pale as a porcelain doll's, marred by scars from where he'd slashed himself accidentally. His hair was a wild nest of black curls, his body long and weedy. And his hands, his unfinished hands...

They were alien, ugly. He was nothing but a creature of nightmares.  
Eventually he reached for the clothes Gwen had given him, drowning in the excess material, the sweatpants loose but too short. 

Merlin closed his eyes and sniffed himself, comforted by the smell of Arthur enveloping him.

+


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the slow progress continues... I promise Arthur will show up in the next chapter!

+

The Polynesian-style master bedroom had vivid floral curtains and bamboo bedroom set. Two twin beds were pressed together to make one large one under a huge bamboo headboard. Gwen sat softly on the bed, her phone to her ear. 

'Yes, you heard me– scissors. Scissors! … I'm pretty sure he was born up there, but I found him all alone. I don't think he's left the estate until today...'

She hung up and plugged her cell in charge, but it buzzed with yet another call from a curious neighbor.

+

Merlin managed to dress himself without damaging the borrowed clothes, except for one cut over the knee cap and a few around the waistband. The T-shirt had caught on his right scissor hand for a moment, but he slid his arm through without ripping the material. 

As soon as he pulled the shirt on, Gwen stepped in from the hall. 

'Sorry, that took a little longer than expected. It seems like everybody in town is dying to know who you are! I see you didn't need my help. You look so much better out of that leather jumpsuit!'

Merlin flushed, turning to the mirror. He swept back his hair, unintentionally clipping off a few strands. He looked all right, but delicate, swamped in the heavy knit fabric. He felt Gwen's eyes on him and grinned at her gratefully, passing his hands down his sides, accidentally ripping above his hipbones.

+

Up and down the neighborhood street, women exited their houses, some tugged out by their dogs. The dogs woofed and rushed forward, while their owners chatted, congregating in front of the Pendragon's house. 

Nimueh was the only one who remained at home, clothed in black and encircled by religious relics. She squinted down the block at the assembly at the Pendragon's, her face threatening and full of judgement. 

She crossed herself, her eyes gleaming with fanaticism.

+

The family room housed a worn sofa, a pair of armchairs, a pool table, more framed family pictures, and a flatscreen television. 

Merlin sat with his blades politely crossed in his lap, amazed at the deftness with which Gwen sewed up the tears in his shirt. She searched in her sewing kit for scissors, and unable to find them, held out the end of the thread to Merlin. 

'Would you do the honors?'

'Oh, yes. Of course.'

He carefully cut the thread. 

'You know, Merlin, I think I might have a doctor friend who can help you.'

'You do?'

Gwen scrutinized his hopeful face. 

'Well, I can help you with the scars, but I'd have to watch an online Camelot Cosmetics tutorial before doing anything.'

Eager, Merlin beamed at her. 

+

Later, at the dinner table, Merlin was introduced to Uther, Gwen's husband, an intimidating steel-haired hair a good number of years her senior, and his eleven-year-old son Mordred, who stared unflinchingly across the table at Merlin. 

Merlin tried to eat the beef stroganoff in front of him, but groped at his knife and fork, attempting to lift them. His ears burned red with severe embarrassment at the alarming clang of metal on metal, trying to be silent and relaxed about it. 

Uther and Gwen masked their own discomfort by acting as if nothing strange was happening at the table, but Mordred kept gawking at Merlin. Gwen scowled at him.

'Mordred, how many times have I told you that it isn't polite to stare! How would you like it if someone was staring at you?'

'If I looked like him, I think I'd be used to it.'

'Well, I would have a problem with it, so remember your manners.'

Uther cleared his throat, disregarding the awkwardness by trying have a conversation with Merlin.

'So, Marvin, this must be a complete change of scene for you.'

'Merlin, honey, his name is Merlin,' interrupted Gwen.

'Right.' Uther shoved a forkful of stroganoff into his mouth. 'So tell me, Marvin, what did you do with yourself up in that gloomy old place?'

Merlin maintained his struggle with the silverware.  
'It must have had a pretty impressive view form up there, right, Marvin?'

'It's Merlin,' said Gwen. 

Merlin lifted his head at the mention of his name. 'Yes?'

'I guess you can see clear to the ocean from all the way up there.'

'Sometimes.'

Merlin's eyes were sad at the memory. 

Mordred gazed at him more intensely than before.

'Mordred, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop staring!'

Merlin finally gave up on the silverware, resorting to skewering pieces of meat and pasta as casually and politely as possible. He ever so carefully nibbled the food off of the sharp ends of his scissor fingers. The paper serviette tore in his hands as he patted the sauce from his mouth. 

Mordred couldn't restrain himself any longer.

'Awesome! Those things are wicked sharp, like razors! You could totally rip some guy's guts out and – '

'Mordred!' Gwen admonished.

'Aw, Gwen, can I take him to school on Monday?'

Merlin stared at the little boy with a mischievous glint in his eye, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Dealing with the stares and giggles of one child was bad enough, let alone an entire school full of them...

+

At bedtime, Gwen put Merlin to bed in Arthur's room, pulling the covers over him on the trembling mattress. He held his hands high over the duvet, hyper-aware of the harm they could do. Gwen had remade the bed with fresh linens, but the room still reeked of sweaty teenage boy – of Arthur.

She wrinkled her nose as she coaxed Merlin to lower his hands on either side of him. 

'There you go, nice and tucked in. I'm sorry you have to sleep here in Arthur's bed; teenage boys are so gross and messy but it's the best I can do on short notice. You think you can fall asleep?'

'Yes, thank you, Gwen, for everything,' Merlin answered, eager to reassure her. He liked Arthur's room, and his bed. Even the way it smelled was comforting. 

Beaming, Gwen left, turning out the light.

'Good night, Merlin. Sleep well.'  
'Good night.'

Spontaneously, he waved contentedly to her, only to have his blades slash the sheets around him.

+


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I'm finishing up coursework before exams -- my last ever in uni!
> 
> Many thanks for your lovely comments, and a shout-out to Jaydeen who let me know that I filled a prompt I didn't even know about, which had beautiful artwork, here -- http://sallyna-smile.livejournal.com/240732.html.

+

A parade of cars, driven by the neighborhood husbands on their way to the country club, glided past the Pendragon's house, the men all struggling to glimpse something through the windows. Their wives, still in their terry bathrobes with coffee cups in hand, peered over from their front porches.

Inside the Pendragon's, Gwen sat with a chunky Camelot Cosmetics manual on her lap, her samples box beside her as she put make-up on Merlin's marked face.

'See, the pale Beauty Balm is applied first, then you just blend and blend and blend it in. The key is to blend! A little more BB cream... Your skin tone is so light! Let me just try this... That's even whiter... There. Now just a little more blending...'

She bent back to examine the result – no obvious difference had been made. Gwen twisted open more tubes, describing the process to Merlin.

'We'll see a true difference after I put on the foundation layer. Selecting a foundation that's suited to your natural complexion, that's the key! This one... No... This one has a little more sallow... It's close enough... That should work!'

Gwen applied the foundation she selected all over Merlin's face, then, screwing up her eyes, she studied him, biting her lip. His scars looked even more noticeable than before. She took out a pack of tissues and blotted his face free of the caked make-up. 

'This isn't really working, but I have another idea.'

She prepared a paste blend and began to seal in the lacerations on Merlin's face with it. 

'We just need an even surface to work with...'

But the paste didn't adhere, so Gwen mixed in cosmetic glue, which stayed, but formed bumps on Merlin's face where before there were cuts.

'Goddamn it! This stuff is shit!' she cursed, exasperated. Merlin startled at her tone. 

'No, I'm sorry, it's not your fault!'

Gwen applied herself a little longer, but the paste began to flake off and roll into lumps. She fixed the lumps onto the sharp points of Merlin's hands.

'Well, at least you can't cut yourself anymore.'

But with the smallest pressure, the tips stuck out. Gwen sighed.

'I'm so sorry, Merlin, I really thought this would work! But I ended up making it look worse...'

Merlin smiled weakly at her, wishing he could give her a hug. But he didn't dare.

+

In the backyard lawn, Uther half-heartedly pruned a bushy shrub with a pair of gardening shears. Between snips, he tried to listen to the soccer match Mordred and his friend Kara were watching on a laptop in his treehouse.

Merlin lingered awkwardly beside a hedge, making a hesitant cut here and there. He glanced over at Uther, whom he was still anxious around, but the man did not even aware he was there. 

'Mordred, can you turn it up? I can barely hear the game over here!'

Mordred rolled his eyes but complied with his dad's demand, turning the volume up.

Merlin continued trimming the bush, feeling safely unobserved. Slowly, his cuts became faster and faster, becoming more confident as the work engrossed him. For a few delirious moments, he abandoned his natural apprehensiveness, becoming a self-assured maelstrom of blades, concentrated, constant, almost frenzied. The clippings fluttered around him. 

Mordred peeped out of the treehouse, his eye instantly caught by the bush Merlin whittled to look like a dragon. 

'Look! It's the dragon from The Hobbit!'

Kara's head popped through the window of the treehouse.

'It's so cool!'

Uther whirled around.

'Well, I'll be damned...'

Neither he nor the kids could tear their eyes away from Merlin. A whirlwind, he cut and trimmed and pruned, sharping the drab shrubbery into fine art – a bear; a falcon; four big hedges into a man, a woman, a teenage boy, and a little boy. 

'Oh my god, it's us!' squealed Mordred, his normally stoic face breaking into a wide smile. 

Merlin barbered another bush into a flawless cube.

'Just for contrast,' Merlin shyly explained.

The flower garden was scrubby and badly tended. With terrifying rapidity, Merlin clipped away the  
dead wood, trimming the stems, pulling up the strangling weeds, jabbing aeration holes into the soil, cutting newspaper into compost and mixing it into the earth.

By the time Gwen came out of the back door, vivid, heavy rose blooms weigh down every stem. 

Gwen stared at her transformed garden, wonderstruck.

'My god, Merlin...! You did all this?'

Blushing with delight, Merlin hosed down his scissor hands, attentively wiping them down, affectionately carefully, like an expert artisan with his tools. 

'Mordred, go and get Marvin a can of oil from the garage,' said Uther. 'We can't have you rusting up like the Tin Man because of us, now can we?'

Mordred scrambled down and hurried off.

+

An abrupt high-pitched shriek erupted from Nimueh who stood at the Pendragon's back fence, her hands slapped over her ears. Her dewy blue eyes centered on Merlin's glimmering, reflective, sharp artificial hands. She shrieked again. 

A dazed quiet ensued. Everyone stared as Nimueh aimed a gaunt, condemning finger at Merlin.

'That is no angel from heaven! It is right from the foul fires of hell! The strength of Lucifer is in him! I can see it! Are you so blind you cannot see? Have you unfortunate sinners wandered so far from the path of light?'

They all gawked at her. Merlin struggled to comprehend her. 

'What are you saying? What is a sinner? Where is the path of light? What does she mean?'

He stepped toward Nimueh.

'Don't come any closer!'

'Why not?'

Shrieking again, she hurried off. 

'That's right. Run away! Stay away from my property or I'll call the police!' sneered Uther.

From far inside the house came the musical ringing of the doorbell. Gwen went to answer the door. In a rare friendly mood, Uther slapped Merlin on the back, who started, surprised. 

'Calm down, Marvin, don't pay her any mind. She's just the neighborhood crazy, that's all.'

Merlin bit his lip. He had a feeling he had not seen the last of Nimueh.

+


End file.
